


A Losing Battle

by Restrictedsection



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M, Pining Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Summer Love, Summer Vacation, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch in Love, Watford Fifth Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24752935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Restrictedsection/pseuds/Restrictedsection
Summary: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch is on his summer holidays after completing his fourth year. He meets someone he might want as much as he wants Simon Snow.********Pinning over the person who hates you most in the world has got to be one of the most excruciating death sentences a person can get.( Because I know it will kill me- maybe even before he does.)Pinning over the person who hates you most in the world, and who is also your roommate, is hell itself.Maybe, for the first time in my life, fate decided to give me the second most painful option- and his name is Jordan Knox. No matter how bad we crash, he’ll never hurt me as much as Simon will, or already has.
Relationships: Natasha Grimm-Pitch & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Original Male Character(s), Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Kudos: 24





	A Losing Battle

**Author's Note:**

> I only wrote this because i find it hard to believe Baz has never had the opportunity to be with anyone other than Simon. The thought of him being hopelessly in love with his enemy his whole adolescent life is depressing and my baby deserves more. So i wrote this little fic. The thought of Baz knowing he could still get someone else if he wanted to gives me peace. I hope you enjoy!

**Basilton P.O.V.**

Jordan Knox glowed.

He oozed magic from his pores like if he did it long enough, he’d be rid of it forever.

According to Watford’s standards, I knew he couldn’t possibly be that powerful. Although, every single time he was around, the smell of honey and freshly cut grass assaulted my senses. His magic was as potent as it was strong.

In my three days of knowing him, I had thought up a few theories that could explain the paradox that was Jordan Knox’s magic.

Theory 1: He kept the company of Normals.  
Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be a factor. It’s not a proven fact that staying around Normals for a long period of time makes your magic more potent, although magickal scholars had already made a distinct link between Normals and our spells’ strength; the potency factor was more of a myth than anything.

Someone once tried to explain it like this, ‘When you’re around Normals long enough and haven’t been in contact with any other mage, you almost forget how other mage’s magic feels like. How lightheaded power can make you feel, as well as how warm and familiar a loved one’s magic feels. So, when you finally meet another mage, it’s like taking your first breath of fresh air after being underwater for too long. No matter how much or how little power that mage has, it makes you drunk, it makes you warm, it burn’s your throat with its potency and leaves you wanting more.’

I always thought it was a bit of an exaggeration, until I met Jordan Knox the summer before my fifth year at Watford. I hadn’t realised anyone other than Simon Snow could make feel like that.

Theory 2: He uses enhancing spells.  
This was the first impression I got from him the moment we met. He stood behind his aunt while she talked to my father in hushed tones. His skin was a dark ebony hue, just like his aunt's. He had long hair that he had slicked back and tied at the base of his neck. The puff of delicate dark coils contrasted greatly with the regal dark suit and sharp weary look he always wore. He blended in seamlessly with the house’s décor, and even more with the other Old Family’s heirs.

Many mages use look-enhancing spells. It isn’t particularly condemned, but many don’t consider it particularly honest. I considered him for a while trying to see if I could identify any hint of magic on him besides his telltale scent. On the smooth slope of his nose, the sheen in his hair, his elegant gait or even on his cupid bow lips. I couldn’t see anything. I’d picked up enough tips and tricks from Aunt Fiona to be able to recognise these things, but he seemed completely clean.

I doubted him for a day more, but when I noticed how he flinched when father lit the fireplace with magic and how the twins tied their shoelaces using it, I realised that someone who went out of their way to avoid magic wouldn’t want it on them for that long.

Theory 3: I was attracted to Jordan Knox.  
The only person whose magic affects me this much is Simon Snow, but Jordan Knox’s magic doesn’t burn my throat with smoke and remind me of my inevitable death.  
It’s always been Simon, and it will always be Simon. Every time I wake up, it’s to his face, and when I fall asleep, it’s to his face. It’s always him. The butterflies in my stomach had grown into dragons by the end of the fourth year.

I always thought I’d get over it and find easier ways to disappoint my father, but now I realise I might not. That doesn’t mean I’m not tired of it.

Pinning over the person who hates you most in the world has got to be one of the most excruciating death sentences a person can get.( Because I know it will kill me- maybe even before he does.)  
Pinning over the person who hates you most in the world, and who is also your roommate, is hell itself.

Maybe, for the first time in my life, fate decided to give me the second most painful option- and his name is Jordan Knox. No matter how bad we crash, he’ll never hurt me as much as Simon will, or already has.

I sat at the window in the library, looking down at the garden hoping the Old Families would realise holding meetings to conspire against The Mage in the Grimm-Pitch Manor was a bit too on the nose.

I considered studying, like I told my father I was doing, but the heat prevented me from shaking off my fatigue.

Then a knock sounded at the door. It was loud and sharp, more of a warning than a request. I sat up and considered intercepting the guest at the door, but the smell of honey and grass froze me in place.

Jordan Knox slinked silently into the room and closed the door softly. He put his forehead on it, still gripping the handle tightly, and heaved out a tired sigh. He rubbed his face and stood tensely, glaring holes into the mahogany wood door.

Sighing, he turned around and stared blankly at the room. I knew he couldn’t see me because of the shelf by the window, but he would if he took a few steps forward. He took his phone out of his pocket and frowned at it. Returning it into its place, he pulled a box of cigarettes from his inside jacket pocket. I tensed up.

My father has never allowed anyone to smoke in the house. It’s always been a reasonable request seeing as nearly everything in it has a wood finish. Only my family knew it was because of my ever worrying flammability. This small act of defiance could spark an animosity between our two families, one that could only be quenched by spilt blood. Dramatic, but true. Wars have been started over less by proud and powerful mages. This would be unforgivable.

“I don’t think you should be doing that in here,” I spoke up, moving from behind the shelves.

Knox looked up, cigarette frozen at his lips. He lowered his lighter slowly.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. It’s just… being here puts me on edge, no offence. The house is ancient, completely drenched in magic. I’m just not used to it,” Knox said, putting the lighter and cigarette away. He said the word magic like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Which is great for super secret and definitely illegal meetings, right? Spacious, hidden and safe; every mage’s dream,” I retorted.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the edges. It took me off guard. Nobody has ever thought my sarcasm was funny, because it always comes with an underlying threat. Either Knox didn’t pick up on that, or I unintentionally made a joke.

“Well, if the house puts you on edge, why would you escape from it from in here?” I asked him in jest. It wasn’t like me. I was a little embarrassed.

“Probably the same reason you are,” Knox said, leisurely strolling into the room. He eyed the bookshelves contemptuously and walked straight to the window I just vacated. Despite his supposed uneasiness, he was quick to make himself at home.

“The view of the garden is beautiful from up here,” he breathed out when I joined him at the window.

“This was my mother’s favourite room,” I said softly after a long silence. I don’t know why I said that. I never spoke of my mother.

The way he walked was like he owned the world, but at the price of having to carry it, I didn’t think it would make much of a difference.

He hummed in understanding and nodded slowly. A flash of grief passed over is features and left just as fast as it came.

“They say she was the most powerful mage of her generation. Power like that doesn’t just vanish, it leaves a mark, lingering in the places it loved the most,” Knox said, voice low. His voice was all gravel and meaning, he made me feel exposed.

“Shouldn’t you be making allies and meeting potential partners,” I said brashly, with bite in my voice, “instead of -”

“How do you know I’m not doing that now?”

That floored me.

“What?”

“How do you know that’s not what I’m doing right now?” He refuses to answer the question I was really asking.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, thank you for the conversation,” I tell him, turning away, completely ready to abandon all thoughts of him the moment he was out of sight. (I’m ashamed that the moment he seems attainable, I’m ready to run.)

“So you don’t want to be my ally?” he asks me, backtracking.

“Can I be frank?” I ask him, eyebrow raised.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” he said, his mouth tilted in a small smile.

“I don’t think I’d make much of an ally, to begin with, and I don’t think you’d want me as one the moment you see I’m as saturated with magic as the house,” I said, finally changing the dynamic.

“Ahhh, there it is,” he said, smiling in amusement.

“I’ve been waiting for that, I just didn’t think you would be so outright about it.”

It still felt like he was in control of the conversation, despite me having the upper hand.

“Is that why you aren’t at Watford, because you’re… cautious of magic?” I ask him.

“I’m not at Watford because I don’t see the need to let magic take over every aspect of my life. I’m cautious of it because I know the damage it can actually do,” Knox answers coldly. He’s on guard again.

“It’s a part of you, your heritage. Don’t you want to learn about it?” I ask him incredulously.

“Of course I do, but I think I know enough. Maybe I just want to learn about more… prevalent things,” he says, focusing on a spot in the garden.

“Prevalent? Prevalent like every letter Hamilton wrote John Laurens or prevalent like-”

“Now you’re just teasing me,” he said, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. I’m glad I don’t have the blood to rush to my face, because I’d be redder than a tomato.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tell him, eyes narrowed.

He hums in ascent to my statement.

“How would you even know anything about American history? Don’t you go to a British Magic school?” he asks me, tone mocking.

He’s teasing me now, trying to get a rise out of me to change the conversation. I’d done it enough times to Simon to recognise it.

“Just because I care about magic, doesn’t mean I’m completely oblivious to the outside world. I read- quite a lot, because no matter what world you’re in, knowledge is always power.”

“So you want to be powerful?”

“I want to be someone my mother can be proud of.”

“So you want to be powerful.”

We stare each other down. He’s hinting at something, but the smell of honey and grass is so strong that my thoughts escape me for a moment.

That moment is all it takes for those blue eyes and blonde locks to come into my mind again, reminding me why I want to want Knox so much. Why I can’t want him as much as I want Simon. Or love him as much as I love Simon.

But I can’t back down yet.

“How can you be afraid of something that’s a part of you? That runs through your veins as much as your own blood does?”

His smirks at me, and it’s vile and knowing. That doesn’t make it any less handsome. His dark skin glows in the orange hue of the sunset and it almost looks like the he’s the one turning the room orange and pink. His eyes are gleaming with mirth and secrets I’ll never unlock.The colors make the room look like it’s on fire, and I’m ready to burn.

“If there’s someone here scared of something that’s a part of them, it’s not me,” Knox says, taking a step closer to me.

“You’re deflecting, as always.”

“Basil, you’ve been deflecting since this conversation started.”

His lips release my name like a prayer; quiet, solemn and repentant. He takes another step closer, leaning down to my ear. The room is now bright orange and I regret every decision I made to get myself in this situation.

“The intensity of your stare is too heavy to go unnoticed, even across the room, Basilton. Subtlety would do you well in future,” he whispers in my ear. His breath is warm against it, and his lips feel like fire when they brush past.

I hold my breath in response and he leans back slightly, searching my face for something. His lips quirk up and he smiles fully, for the first time our entire conversation.

This rare smile disarms me completely, and I’m embarrassed that he knows I’m at his mercy. He is glacial while Simon is the sun; golden skin and gleeful eyes interrupt my train of thought again.

In this moment I realise love will always be a losing battle, and right now, the only person I am willing to put myself at the mercy of is Simon Snow.

**Author's Note:**

> Notice i don't use the name Baz in this. I did that purposefully to show that the Baz in this story is not the same Baz we know in Carry On. He's just hit puberty so he's just a 15 year old boy (which is why i wasn't comfortable going even as far as a kiss). He's not yet grown into who he is when we meet him in the original works, so I preferred not to use the name Baz to differentiate to two versions of him - child him and adult him.


End file.
